The air quickly became heavy; dense with dirtied air that strangled my lungs. From outside, Tanya’s curses mingled with her prayers, exiting into the atmosphere. Small hiccups surfaced from the woman atop Alexander; her sobs breaking the tension in the air. Alexander paid no attention to her—he barely batted an eyelid when she frantically covered her breasts and fled the vicinity. In the chaos of it all, I was barely able to catch a decent glimpse of her face.
“I… I knew this was a bad idea,” I heard Tanya whimper from the corridor. Her peachy face loomed with mortification. Remembering the words I had senselessly uttered only moments ago, it became clear that I would have to fulfil my unintentional promise.
“I will take care of it,” I assured her. It was not at all a convincing vow, for her face scrunched further into itself and she shook her head. “Now you go ahead and skedaddle.”
Raising from his position on the ground, a naked Alexander courteously slipped on a pair of pants. His eyes pierced into mine, before rolling off. “Did I say anyone could leave?”
He spoke so vigilantly, so controlled. If he was perplexed, he did not at all show it. He did not seem the slightest bit embarrassed, nor did he show any remorse. In fact, as he shrugged on his cream shirt, he had the audacity to ask: “Does what you see please you?”
I wanted to scoff, I wanted to retaliate with the witty remarks I had gathered over the years, but I managed to remain composed. Though almost a day ago I was begging to return home, now that I was staring in the face of my ruined prospects, obliging was the only thing left I could do.
“I’m sorry.” Was he a sire? Was I supposed to say sire? No—he wasn’t one. I fell to my knees and, much to my own surprise, I began to wipe the stained floor with the edge of my skirt. The tea had spilled all over, leaving an abstract brown splodge on the floor. The colour continued to radiate outwards, despite my furious sponging.
“Get up,” he commanded. I felt my spine realign on cue, and I hoisted myself up, shifting my weight on one of his many dressers for support. “And you,” he addressed Tanya. I turned and saw her poor body stiffen. She looked more than frightened, her wide eyes spilling out of their sockets. Her little chest heaved forwards and backwards as she assessed his words.
“Leave her out of it,” I said quickly—matching my tone to his. He reverted his gaze to me and jeered in my direction. What a pig!
“What did you just say?”
My stomach retracted into itself. But, I was not going to let my false confidence fail me. Returning an equally dictatorial scoff, I restated my words. “I said: Leave her out of it.”
As I evaluated his face, I could see he was no longer domineering. It was then I realized—it was I who had the upperhand. If anyone was to be afraid, it would be him. I had this dirt against him! While I was not yet sure of how I would use it, I knew that at this moment in time, it was imperative that Tanya leave. With a defeated sigh, he turned back to Tanya.
“Leave,” he said. “Just—go.”
She did not have to be told twice. With a quick curtsy, she too left the vicinity—but not without shooting me a reluctant glance. Now, it was just Alexander and I. I looked at him for a long time, trying to figure out what I had stumbled onto.
He engagement had recently be announced, and it had caused quite a stir. Many of the girls back home sobbed at the idea of a handsome, eligible bachelor being sold off to another girl who supposedly was equally as handsome and rich. Bethany Brood was who she was—the daughter of an art patron and industrialist.
Their fast-paced relationship was one countless had swooned over, but I interpreted it to be the speedy joining of two businesses. The fact that no one speculated their relationship to be nothing more than a business merging sincerely racked my bones.
Regardless of the intention their engagement brought, it was still not right for him to be playing around—especially just days before his banquet! As these thoughts fluttered though my head, a clear conclusion etched itself: it was definitely a business marriage. Who on earth would be senseless enough to marry a chauvinistic swine?
Now, his face eased into a jaded expression. Apparently, I had looked at him for a long time, which only prompted his response: “Why? Do you want me to start something with you, too?”
When he realized I was in a sour mood, he rolled his eyes again and sat on his bed. “I have seen nothing,” I quietly said.
He was taken aback. “What?”
“The girl—she will not say a word either.” I would talk to Tanya later, though I was sure I would not need to instigate anything. “That little reputation of yours—I will make sure it remains unscathed.”
“But, your little act will not,” he said meekly, regaining his momentum. “All that attend here know the rules. Was this room not occupied? I do not recall inviting you in.” He ceremoniously cracked his knuckles, proud of himself. “Now tell me—what is your name?”
“Catherine,” I replied slowly.
“Well, Catherine…” My name slipped out of his mouth like venom from a snake. “Rule-breaching certainly is not tolerated in my household,” he said, taking his thumb and slicing it across his throat. His entire existence boiled my blood.
“I take that back,” I said sardonically. “Maybe, a little scuttlebutt about a certain someone’s affair will slip from my lips, sire.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I? ‘Arrogant Alexander breaks Bethany’s brittle heart.’ It would make a nice heading from the Chelmsford Chronicle—do you not agree?” His face reddened at this. He did not even attempt to hide the rue in his eyes.
“Don’t you be shooting your mouth off, Catherine,” he spat. “Remember: I am bigger than you.”
Words continued to spew out of me without my consent. “But what I have over you is bigger than anything you will ever have against me.”
I began to walk away from him, taking the plunge. My feet pedalled towards the door and I twisted the knob, satisfied with my adequate sass. I closed it behind me. I was not being arrogant in assuming that he would come after me. He would have to, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?
I continued to walk. I had reached a point where I could no longer distinguish the pounding of my feet against the carpet with the hammering of my heart in my chest. After each second moved past, I placed another foot forward. Though my eyes lolled to the sides of my head, I resisted the urge to turn around fully: knowing that by doing so, I’d have returned his authority in full.
Thirty seconds had passed, and I imagined he was still sitting in his room. I hoped he was contemplating about me. If he had forgotten or disregarded our conversation entirely… lightly put, I would have been stumped.
Thirty-one. I placed another foot forward—more slowly this time. It hit the floor. Thirty-two. Another foot forward, another one slammed down. Thirty-three—
“Catherine!” His voice bounced off the walls, before entering my eardrums. Wait a moment, I inwardly reminded myself. I started the recount, and turned my head ever-so-slowly. Alexander stood by the doorframe, pursing his lips and shaking his head.
Jogging towards me, he proceeded to grab me. My palms tingled as his grip tightened. I figured it would not be long until the tips of my fingers turned a starchy blue. His whitened knuckles matched the whites of his eyes. He pulled me back into his room. I learned—after Mother’s grip—that resistance was futile.
“Let me go,” I huffed. The force around my wrist declined, and he retracted his arm.
“What exactly is it that you want? Money? Status? Why are you doing this?” It was his turn to wheeze vainly. I could see his eyes search mine for an answer. They widened and contracted; widened and contracted. This forced his eyebrows to wiggle in a familiar way.
The more I looked at him, I more I realized how impulsive I was being. I had the opportunity to leave—I had plenty. I could have dropped the platter and ran; I could have left with Tanya; I could have left after promising to keep his affair underground.
Now, I was standing at the face of adversity: and, with a half-assed reason! I could not be forefront with my ideas. I could not just say: ‘I wanted you to leave Tanya alone, and now I am just working off of my own personal loathe.’ So, instead, I settled for no answer.
“Well?” His agitated tone was becoming softer, more desperate. I almost pitied him. I was not in any need of money, although Mother would certainly disagree. Nor was I in any search for status—that was something I was sure of. “I will give you time to think of something,” Alexander said. “I will give you anything within my power: with the condition that today did not happen.” He was a bigger asset than I had expected.
“There may be something,” I started.
“Tell me!”
I bit my lip. “I have to go.” Fumbling for the knob, I twisted it and ran. Yes—now I run!
“I will find you, Catherine.” Though he tried to be threatening, it sounded more like longing to me.
As unease moved aside and made way for adrenaline, I felt the weight of my bigoted head roll forward and fall right down to my toes. Had I really chastised him? My God—I was a lot feistier than I remembered.
I crawled back into the kitchen, drained and sapped. I quickly found Tanya. Her eyes lit up as I entered the room.
“That took a while,” Maria murmured.
“I—uh—lost Tanya,” I explained quickly. “Then I couldn’t find her—and I kept getting lost, and—”
“Relax, my child!” Maria laughed, spooning a dollop of the hotpot into a shallow bowl. “I am not trying to interrogate you.” Tanya gave an effortless laugh. Just as I suspected: she had not told anyone.
I met up with her for dinner in the quarters. A poorly constructed cafeteria hosted our final meal of the day. Tanya and I were already seated at a frazzled table that was well and truly worn.
“I will not say anything,” Tanya promised. “But—may I say something? You were remarkable in there!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How did you even do that?” Her eyes glittered with superficial respect.
“How did she even do what?” Hannah inquired, sliding her metal tray with today’s unidentified slop onto the table. She dug her spoon into the mountain of mashed potatoes and shoved it into her mouth.
“She,” Tanya started. I pleaded with her through my eyes. “She—she didn’t even flinch when Alexander shouted at her!”
Tanya explained the story, saying I had spilled tea all over his floor, and he responded with nothing more than a shrug. This was relatively true—she’d only left out some details. Minor details. The watered-down act seemed to spark enough controversy as it was. Susan seemed the most impressed, and justified it through her own encounter with Alexander.
“I completely empathize with you,” she said, her mouth full of mystery meat. “The first day I meet him, he shouts at me over the most trivial thing.”
“And what was that?” I said, digging my own spoon into the platter.
“Sandwiches,” Hannah continued for her, over-dramatically. “He detests sandwiches that are cut into triangles!”
“And it wasn’t even my fault!” Susan retorted. “Way to shoot the messenger!” She chased her peas around her platter. “I can’t believe he didn’t say anything to you! He must have been out of it, if he weren’t to explode at you over something like that.”
“Do you think so?” I said, chewing on my lower lip. She nodded.
“Triangles, Cathy,” Susan said, tracing the shape in the air with her forefinger. “Triangles.”
After dinner, we headed back to the Quarters for a quiet evening. Clean sleepwear was placed at the corners of our beds for us to change into. We stripped off our dresses and hung them on their hooks before scrambling into bed. Unlike the previous night, it did not take long until the apprehension descended, and I readily accepted it. There was no point in trying to avert anything: what had been done was done. Dwelling on what lay ahead would be pointless.
The future, I quickly learned, was never predetermined. I failed to recognize the chain order of cause, event, and consequence. The universe did not schedule events! It was we who paved tomorrow’s path. I could change tomorrow.
Rewriting today’s events would be impossible, but how Alexander would respond to my future actions: these things could be controlled by me. With that comforting thought, and several flamboyant breathing exercises, I found myself asleep. Dreading tomorrow; but asleep.
The dull chime of the bell had woken me up, and I was able to climb down without any of Susan’s assistance. Thoughts whirled around my head, and my lanky figure swayed as I tried to reorient myself. Though annoying, the bell served as a tangible reminder of my new, temporary life. It took me a while to process where I was, what I was doing, and yesterday’s happenings, but I tried to push those thoughts away. It was my third day here, and already I was sensing change.
I stepped off of the bed, my bare toes not exactly delighted with the cold introduction to the wooden floor. Susan and Hannah had just woken up, their hair bundling over their shoulders.
“Morning,” Susan chirped.
“What’s so good about it?” I responded, as I watched her pull her dress from the coat hook.
“Oh, hello—? What is this?”
“What’s what?” Hannah asked, sliding over to her sister.
Hanging in place of my saggy old dress was a sterling new one. It looked almost black as it slouched next to Hannah’s faded one. I shuddered at the thought of someone slipping into our bedroom while we were sleeping.
“Hmph,” Hannah pouted dramatically. “How lovely of them. Say, we didn’t get new dresses when we started—did we Sue?”
“I don’t think so, sister,” Susan said with a messy shake of her head. “Well—try it on!” she chided. I pulled the dress off the hook, drawing spirals over the new velvet with my fingertips. It slipped on smoothly; the slick fabric soft and warm against the grains of my skin.
“My, it looks lovely on you,” Hannah whistled. “Fits you very well.” It did. It barely grazed the floor, not snagging on the raised wooden platforms. “The tag is still on the back.”
I could feel the cardboard scratch my skin through the thick dress. Reaching towards my back, the tips of my fingers stumbled across the tag, gummed to the dress with a dry adhesive. As I brought it to my face, I realized: it was no tag.
In my hands was a thick card. The edges were lined with a polished gold boarder. There was writing in the middle; but the script was so illegible that the characters jumbled together. A miniature migraine pelted my temples as I attempted to decipher the muddled writing.
Catherine,
We are not finished. Tomorrow night, meet me in my room—9 o’clock in the evening. Be there.
Alexander
I read over the note several times over. Susan had merrily skipped behind my shoulder.
“A love letter? From one of the handsome butlers, maybe?” she cooed.
“Not likely,” I laughed. Slipping the paper into one of the pockets, I frowned. “Nothing important.”